There's monsters under my bed,
They pull at my legs,
Bite at my neck,
Strip off my clothes,
Till I feel the breath of death,
They make me see nightmares,
Just like it was a dream,
They bite and suck,
They murder and rock,
The make everything seem surreal.
I've got a monster in my own bed,
It hits and it kisses,
It love and it hates,
It make me see stars,
It makes me want to be dead,
But the monster is also an angel,
That's why I don't mind,
The pain will be worth the wait,
For the angel to come out in line,
Until then;
I'll be just fine.
YOU ARE READING
Dust of the untold
PoetryYet another poem collection, Ready to be free, Words written down by a stranger, Some scars you just got to see. A collection of hearts, A bucket of sorrow, A box of pain and my deepest thoughts. These are untold stories, From a closed soul, and a c...
